


What the heart wants

by Vivvums



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rough Sex, Scratching, Voyeurism, top!scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6463303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivvums/pseuds/Vivvums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watching the shift entranced him. It thrilled him, to see that power and the loss of control, and something about it... Well, it just turned him on a little, okay? It wasn't like he'd had fantasies about big bestial teeth biting into his shoulder, or a  snarling Scott pounding into him, clawing him, ruining him... Okay, fuck, he had, he was messed up as hell, whatever.</p><p>(Rape is tagged, but it's really more reverse-rape, and fairly mild at that, being ultimately consensual.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the heart wants

**Author's Note:**

> I splorged out 3/4th of this in 2 hours with a sudden spurt of inspiration and couldn't wait to post it, as such it has not been beta-read or even proof-read. Nonetheless I hope you enjoy, and critique/constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.
> 
> Edit 05-04-2016: I gave it a proof-read, took out like a dozen commas and 3 typos, then extended the ending. I'm also considering a second chapter, but I'm going to leave it as 'complete' for now because I'm not sure.
> 
> P.S. The lack of comments saddens me. Feel free to comment, maybe you can give me an idea for the next story :)

Stiles’ fingers drummed on the wheel as his jeep hammered down the asphalt, the streetlights whooshing by one by one, his anxiety transforming into impatience, and that impatience expressing it in the small, nervous gesture. He knew it was stupid to be out driving on the full moon, which reminded him constantly of its presence by shining obnoxiously in the clear sky, but it didn’t matter. Tonight was the night he needed to be out, because he needed to go see Scott and make sure he was okay.

It was the first full moon since he went all alpha, red eyes and everything. They’d made some agreement that Stiles would just keep away and Scott would stay at home, Mrs McCall was working the night so it’d be empty, and see whether or not it would affect him too much. But Stiles didn’t like that plan, it wasn’t a plan at all, it was just typical Scott ‘hope for the best’

At least that was why Stiles told himself he was going. Just to make sure his best friend made it through his first moon as an Alpha, he likened it to a second moon-ginity, and then he could spend the rest of the moons sleeping peacefully. It was definitely not because he was fascinated by what might happen, because every time he saw a transformation he got more and more curious, because he wondered what those fangs combined with animal urges might do to his skin.

Watching the shift entranced him. It thrilled him, to see that power and the loss of control, and something about it... Well, it just turned him on a little, okay? It wasn't like he'd had fantasies about big bestial teeth biting into his shoulder, or a snarling Scott pounding into him, clawing him, ruining him... Okay, fuck, he had, he was messed up as hell, whatever.

The heart wants what the heart wants, right? 

Scott's house was dark, Stiles got there without interruption and killed the engine to his jeep. All the wolves must have been keeping well clear of the new alpha, and Stiles would have been wise to as well. What was it Madonna said, “If I’m smart then I’ll go away, but I’m not so I guess I’ll stay.”? The song started to play annoyingly through Stiles’ mind. As he made his way not to the front door but around the side of the house, Scott would probably hear it if he was listening, Stiles' sneakers thudding quietly on the driveway, but he didn't go to the front door. This wasn't front-door business. Instead he made his way around the side of the house, where he'd long-since memorized the footholds in the wooden slats and the stronger parts of the guttering which would allow him to bring his face at the level required to see through the window. Creepy? Immensely. But right away he saw what he'd been after; the moonlight shone through the window and even cast a Stiles-head-shaped shadow on the carpet inside, but more importantly it bounced off of the toned, bronzed skin of his best friend and provided a visual feast for Stiles' eyes.

He almost lost his grip on the window ledge when his eyes fixated on Scott's cock, squeezed tight in his hand, jutting up toward the ceiling with a slight curve to it... His hand seemed to engulf less than half of it, it was like a big, meaty pole jutting up from his hips and it made Stiles' breath catch in his throat as for a moment his whole body seemed to slow, then stop, then bounced back like a rubber band as his pulse started to hammer.

Had it always been that big? Stiles was seriously going to have to reconsider his life choices if being a wolf meant enhancements in that department, on top of the general muscley-ness that seemed to go hand-in-hand with werewolf endurance and metabolism.

His adams’ apple bobbed as he swallowed the lump in his throat, pressing close enough to the glass that his nose squished against it, watching, trying to get a better view. Scott’s eyes were closed and Stiles could see the way the muscles of his abdomen rippled back and forth as he fucked up into his own hand rather than using the strength of his arms to jerk off like any normal guy would. It occurred him that this might not have been anything to do with the Alpha changes, that he might just be a regular old perv, when it happened.

Scott’s eyes opened and Stiles could see their red glow before they even turned to him, and then when his head rolled a little to face the window, Stiles could see his heavy brow. The hair thick along his jaw, the thick teeth pushing in to his bottom lip, the way his nose was broader, flatter. And the look on that face sent a shudder down his spine, because Scott—The Alpha, whatever, was looking right at him. And his hips didn’t stop.

It was much too late to try and sink back down under the window ledge, he’d been irrevocably caught, and all he could hope was that Scott wouldn’t hate him too much in the morning. His immediate reaction was one Stiles couldn’t interpret either. Those werewolf faces were real hard to read and only seemed good at conveying anger and now, apparently, lust. That was the emotion that sunk into Stiles’ conscious understanding after a few moments. That was what Stiles told himself as he began to slide open the window and climb inside, feet thudding quietly on the carpet. 

 

That noise seemed to be what snapped the Alpha before him into motion. In what seemed like a single, blurred movement Scott was off the bed and on his feet too, standing just opposite Stiles. His legs, however, were bent at the knees, his shoulders pushed forward, his arms hanging wide by his sides in a threatening posture. His shoulders moved with his breathing and Stiles could hear those heavy grunts fall from his mouth.

And did Stiles stop and try to run? No. Because he wanted it. He wanted the way the Alpha was looking at him, he wanted those teeth and those claws all over him. His breath was a little shaky as he inhaled it, and that was the second trigger that Scott needed. 

He was nearly winded as he was barrelled against the wall, hard enough that he would have worried if Melissa’s car had been in the driveway. Scott’s forearm was pressed across his collarbone, holding him in place, while Stiles’ eyes were inches away from those red halos. Scott leaned in close to him and maintained eye contact, and Stiles saw his nose twitch as he sniffed a few times. It seemed experimental, he even tilted his head like a curious dog as he moved in closer to sniff from Stiles’ face then around to his neck, where the blood thrumming closer to the surface would make his scent all the fresher, heat making him sweat slightly.

Stiles didn’t move. He’d thought it’d be okay and that he could trust Scott not to kill him werewolf or no, but right at that moment, he couldn’t exactly call himself sure. Even when he felt that still-hard dick brush against his thigh, and he was gripped with the desire to touch it. 

Without warning the pressure left his chest, and his heels dropped to the ground where he’d been held slightly upward without even noticing. A low whine erupted from the other’s mouth as he backed away a little, the conflict obvious in his features, the way his eyes darted between himself and Stiles, then the floor, as if he were trying to avoid the thought.

Stupid move of the night, numero trés: Stiles stepped forward and opened his mouth. “I want it, Scott.” His voice said, more gravelly than he’d expected. 

Scott lunged at him again, but this time he was pretty sure he saw both of Scott’s feet leave the carpet for a moment. Stiles didn’t even have time to gasp as his entire world became the heated body pressed up against his front; he felt claws raking down his back hard enough to make him let out a noise of pain, and that noise was quickly silenced by Scott’s lips on his own.

Kissing with a werewolf was not an experience Stiles could relate to anything else, it was savage, there was no tenderness and instead just hunger. Those fangs grazed and nicked at his lips, and Scott’s tongue pushed right into his mouth, hot and wet and pressing up against his own. His head was pinned back by the force of it, Scott was huffing on him through the gaps between their lips, Stiles tried to kiss back but it was more like Scott was trying to tonguefuck his mouth than actually kiss him, it didn’t leave much room for a riposte.

By the time he’d tired of that, his claws had made quick work of Stiles’ shirt, shredding the key points of the hem and neck along the back, leaving numerous stinging lines of flesh. Stiles hadn’t even noticed it happening, the pain of it so faded in his mind compared to the intensity of the kissing, and of his boner, and Scott’s riding right on along it where their bodies connected at the hip and didn’t break apart again until the shoulders. The flesh was turgid and hot, it’s skin smooth enough to glide with only some drag, and Stiles could have sworn he could feel the damn thing throbbing.

Drawing his head back, with his mouth hanging open in that way that werewolves often did with those rows of dangerous teeth, Stiles got another look at his face. He was still handsome even under all that fierce wolfy-ness, but yet that added to him and made him even more appealing to Stiles than he should have been. He only had a moment to admire it before Scott’s eyes moved, those red rings blurring for a moment in the dimness of the moonlit room. 

Then he was being hauled by arms that only looked athletically toned, but hid the strength of a bodybuilder. It was a swing rather than a lift, hauling Stiles in an arc across the room to let him land just before the bed, his knees brushing the carpet. And then he was lifted and shoved onto the bed, still on his knees, his arms reflexively jutting out to protect himself from a fall. At the foot of the bed, he had the space to stretch forward and lie down, but Scott didn’t let him.

Stood at the foot of the bed, his grip on Stiles’ hips was like iron. It hurt for a moment as his claws drew gashes in his skin as they sunk under the waistline of his dark blue jeans. Then there was the discomfort as Scott exerted his strength, the unrelenting fabric squeezing Stiles’ waist until finally the well-sewn button at the front popped off and the zipper was ripped down so fast that probably ripped at the bottom too. 

Then Scott yanked his jeans down to his knees, and the curve of his smooth, pale ass was in the air, dented at the sides thanks to the hard-earned muscle. Lacrosse training paid off in more ways than one. If he’d been in another kind of mood Scott might have taken some time to admire it, but presently those Alpha hands grabbed Stiles’ ass for the sole purpose of holding it in place. He pushed down, forcing Stiles’ knees to spread apart so that his ass was at the perfect elevation for Scott’s hips.

Stiles’ dick was hard enough that even with his current position, his cock jutted up rigidly against his stomach, only his balls visible from behind, just as smooth and pasty as his rump. Stiles could only suck in a breath, his cheeks bulging out, and bunch up a handful of bedding in each fist before Scott fucked into him. “Hnghk—GAAAH! FFFFUUCK!” The pain was explosive, it burned through his mind like a gunshot, causing most of that air to leave his lungs in a loud cry. Stiles didn’t swear a lot, but he couldn’t even stop it leaving his mouth. The first tinge of regret sunk into his mind as Scott pushed deeper, and seemed to spread fire in his wake. And not the good kind of fire; the ‘it feels like it’s gonna break me’ kind.

Stiles’ head slumped forward and he buried his face in the mattress to follow the next sequence of scream-like exclamations as Scott pounded into him relentlessly. On the first swing he’d thrust all the way in, his precum copious and beyond what a human would be capable of but still not nearly enough for Stiles’ previously virgin hole. It was stretched tight and thin around his cock, a red ribbon of puffy flesh that squeezed Scott’s fat girth firmly enough to make a couple of veins significantly more pronounced. After the first few thrusts his cock started to glisten with his own fluid, and the burn of friction lessened, but not by much. 

Scott’s claws had practically made a home in Stiles’ skin, possibly crossing the ‘wolfism’ line. He used the grip to rock Stiles’ body back against him just as much as he thrust forward with the strength of his powerful, toned thighs. His hips bounced off of Stiles’ muscled ass, and made it easier to go back in for more. Long after Stiles’ pained yelling, the Alpha let out a noise of his own. It was like a growl laced over his huffing breath, the panting of a rabid beast accompanying each movement, Stiles feeling Scott’s drool splattering down against his back in little plops. 

In that time Stiles had gone completely soft, his limp dick bouncing between his thighs, his screams having died into yelps. But finally it was starting to feel warm. The ache was there but it was spreading through him, fading until he could feel more than just the pain of Scott’s penetration. He could feel the warmth of it, the shape as it filled him up—And it was doing that very well. The friction as it glided against the flesh of his hole, oversensitive and raw because of the pain he’d just endured. It flipped; he couldn’t be sure if it was the pain or the pleasure now, he didn’t know how long it had been and if his brain had just got it’s wires crossed but eventually, the noises coming from Stiles’ mouth weren’t grunts of pain. 

He started to roll his hips and buck back against Scott, trying to find a new angle for himself since Scott was too far gone to think about his partner’s pleasure. That rutting figure just pounded relentlessly, the muscle of his tanned torso flexing rhythmically, his somewhat larger and hair-dusted nuts swinging forward to brush against Stiles’. 

When Stiles mustered the will to lift his head again, he could see his waterworks in the sheets. Drool, tears, maybe even something a bit nastier. The clock he noticed by the bedside told him it’d already been 30 minutes, and Scott still wasn’t done. Stiles was just getting started though. He arched his back and pushed his ass up a bit, forcing Scott to find a higher angle. And then, just as he did that, Stiles lowered himself, following Scott’s thrust and turning it into a rolling dance of hips.

That was when Scott hit something that made Stiles moan almost as loud as he’d been helping. He’d thought the pleasure was just from that warmth, the tingling of friction akin to a handjob but in a slightly less sensitive place, the enjoyable movement as it slid inside of him. He was wrong. 

“Oh my god, Scott!” He gasped, thumping a fist down against the mattress. He could feel bead of sweat trickling down his face; now he was starting to feel hot in the good way. It had all been worth it to get here, he moved his hips just right to make Scott pound that place again, and drew a noise from himself that sounded like he was trying to swallow something and shout something at the same time. 

Scott seemed to respond to his bitch’s sudden interest, maybe the fucking had alleviated the beast a little, or maybe that part of Scott was coming to care for Stiles too. His eyes still glowed red but he moved, pulling back out of Stiles. It drew a low whine from the human, Scott’s prick leaving that hole yawning, with sticky strands of his precum clinging like gossamer across the expanse of his slowly closing entrance. Scott’s thick precum had slathered most of Stiles’ lower asscheeks and was crawling in lazy, trailing lines down the creamy flesh of his inner thighs.

Stiles wouldn’t be empty for long, though. Scott crawled up onto the bed with his knees and pushed Stiles’ hips all the way down, twisting him so that he was lying on his right side, whilst hooking his left shoulder under Stiles’ now raised left leg. His knees shuffled along the mattress so that he could move between Stiles’ legs, settling his ass on Stiles’ thigh, letting Stiles’ leg rest on top of his own. Stiles’ leg was held upright, at a pose that strained his flexibility, but he held it… not that he had much choice. 

And then Scott was sliding back in; the angle was new, requiring a lot more hip movement than thigh. But as soon as it slid in to his now welcoming hole, gripping snugly but comfortably around Scott’s oversized cock, Stiles’ eyes went wide. And since he was on his side now he could glance down and see Scott there, feel him nestled up close between his own legs. 

Too bad the assaulting wave of pleasure made him close his eyes, this position seemed to make Scott’s cock piledrive into that hotspot. Scott was sweating too, skin drawn taut over the curved muscle of his pecs glinting in the moonlight. He rocked his hips back and forth, his own taint and balls dragging against Stiles’ thigh. It tugged his cock at a downward angle, making the tendons and muscles of his lower groin become more pronounced.

Stiles had no chance, he couldn’t even count the thrusts on his hand before he was cumming, his pleasure echoing off the walls. His cock spurted uncontrollably over the bed, painting several erratic, white lines as Scott continued to fuck him and make his junk bounce. He was breathing so hard his lungs could barely keep up and it felt like his rib muscles about to cramp. Scott wasn’t done though. 

The alpha, his best friend, pulled out once again and let Stiles roll forward onto his stomach flatly, and this time when Scott mounted him he felt the entire weight of his friend’s body bearing down upon him. His own legs were spread with Scott’s knees between his thighs, and it was all Stiles could do to wedge a pillow under his stomach to make it a little more comfortable as Scott humped him. Up close with short, fast thrusts, his skin sliding against Stiles’ back, his breath tantalizing Stiles’ ear. An arm wrapped around Stiles’ body and pulled them even more tightly together.

Stiles could feel himself starting to get hard again, far outstripping his usual refractory period. But something wasn’t right, something was hurting again. Every thrust seemed to be getting more difficult-- like Scott was getting stuck. Scott’s breathing was getting heavier, enough that it was making an all new source of pleasure in teasing Stiles’ ear. Then he felt it; like a fucking tennis ball got shoved into his ass. Scott had already stretched him to the limit, otherwise he might have cried again, but the pain was very brief, followed by an incredible, intense tight feeling that erupted all through his lower abdomen. His prostate was practically squashed and Stiles felt his body convulse as his second load was pushed out of him. This time though his own cry was drowned by Scott’s.

The howl sounded weird from Scott’s still largely human vocal chords but that was what it was. Not that real-wolf howl but the deep and resonant one that Scott could do, the one that shook the windows and the wall hangings, the one that reverberated through Stiles’ skull. He felt Scott’s cum gushing through him in the form of heat, building up spurt by spurt until the pressure got too great and it started to leak out, trickling down over his own perineum and over the shape of his balls where they’d been resting on the bed, to soak into the sheets gradually.

Then Scott fell on top of him, both arms winding around this time, still connected firmly by Scott’s dick. The heat of his body felt so comfortable that Stiles couldn’t protest as he was pulled onto his side again, head resting on the top of Stiles’ bicep while that arm clutched his chest, the other under his own arm and around his waist. He was sticky, he could feel Scott’s skin clinging to him, he was breathless and sore and spent but he’d never felt so damn light. He wanted to laugh, but instead he got pulled down into sleep by his too-heavy eyelids, the pair sprawled in an awkward diagonal across the bed.

\------------  
When Stiles woke up, Scott wasn’t there. He felt it immediately, there was no sweet moment where he could imagine the warmth was still around him, or he forgot where he was and could imagine everything was fine. He remembered everything simultaneously, with clarity that shocked even himself. Panic bucked in his stomach, and then he noticed the pain. 

All he’d tried to do was roll over to locate Scott, but a shock of agony surged through his lower body, It made him groan. And then, Scott’s shadow crossed the room and he was sitting down on the bed in front of Stiles. He didn’t look at Stiles, but a hand reached back and touched his shoulder, Stiles’ pain fading as the veins on Scott’s wrist and forearm became outlined in black. 

Stiles didn’t know what to say, and neither did Scott, so for a while neither of them said anything. But Stiles was pretty sure that even if Scott didn’t remember everything he’d done, waking up with his cock buried in his bestie was enough of a shock. 

“I could have hurt you. You shouldn’t have done it.” He said eventually, the emotions in his voice so turbulent, Stiles couldn’t make out how he felt.

“…Sorry. I fucked up.”

Stiles saw Scott’s fist clench and unclench. 

“That wasn’t even me. Something else fucked you in my body, Stiles.” He said, and this time the pain in his voice was evident. Ouch. 

“I—“ Stiles tried to speak, but choked instead as the wave of guilt threatened to make him sob. He knew it had been selfish, a stupid obsession, but all the regret in the world wouldn’t fix it. 

“Was it just the wolf you wanted? Did you plan all of that?” It wasn’t like Scott to be so… critical, but then, he was reacting a hell of a lot better than most people Stiles could have imagined would. He clearly remembered how willing Stiles had been.

Stiles needed time to think about that question, but eventually the honest answer found him. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t. It just happened, like—I guess I was a bit gay for you already but—“ He stopped mid-sentenced, amazed by how stupid what he’d said just sounded. He swallowed a gulp.

Scott finally turned to face him, and Stiles could see the conflict on his perfectly human face. His handsome face, with his cute crooked jaw, and where his endearing smile could often be found. Stiles’ hand moved to lay on top of Scott’s where it was touching him. 

“Pleasecanwestillbefriends?” Stiles asked, in a voice so quick and quiet Scott might not have heard him without super hearing. Scott sighed and his expression softened.

“You didn’t need to do it like that, Stiles.” Scott began, chewing his lip a little. “I was… curious, before. And now—“ He glanced across Stiles’ very naked, very exposed body. Even without a partial shift, his nose could pick up their mingled scents, Stiles’ sweat laced with his own thick musk, no doubt from all the cum.

“Now I know. So yeah, we can be friends. Or we can be more. But either way, don’t do that again.”

Stiles was pretty sure his heart wanted to jump out of his chest again as a portion of that light, floaty feeling returned, along with a rush of dizziness. 

“C’mere and kiss me then. No wolf, just us.” And Scott didn’t need to be told twice, he leaned down across the bed and toward Stiles with grace that was impressing, supporting his shoulders on an elbow so that he could position his lips perfectly against Stiles’. 

It was a softer kiss, one that Stiles could have expected from Scott, and it didn’t evoke the same thrill as the ravaging touch of the werewolf, but it did make him feel plenty of other things. So Stiles’ arms slid around Scott’s bare shoulders, over his tanned, toned back and dragged him further onto the bed until they were pressed flush together, with Scott’s legs off to the side. 

Scott was better at, tugging on Stiles’ lips with his own, teasing him by drawing back and then going in for more and then capturing Stiles’ lip in a different spot. It didn’t take the teen long to pick up Scott’s tricks though and soon he was rewarded by Scott’s soft sigh brushing over him. 

“Better?” Scott asked, pulling back a little, gazing down at Stiles. Stiles grinned, taking a moment to respond before nodding. “Totally,” he agreed.


End file.
